


A Level of Trust

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Kara is in pain and Helo helps her in the only way she'll accept, right now...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Level of Trust

Blue light flickered and danced over Kara's face as she lifted the bottle – a replacement for the one she'd already emptied – for another pull. The tip of her nose was numb and her lips tingled at the touch of the glass, but nothing so far had dulled the ache inside. The alcohol had long since burned away the fleeting taste of Lee Adama on her tongue, but it couldn't burn away the pleading look in that nugget's eyes, the last morning of his too-short life. Gods, was it only this morning?

Kara wanted to not think any more, just for a little while. To not feel. To let go of the weight of responsibility and duty and guilt. And so she drank and she watched the Viper's-eye view of the nugget's last battle with Scar.

_Scar hates you every bit as much as you hate him._ The Cylon's words echoed in Kara's head. She closed her eyes and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Helo's Cylon. Sharon. _Dying is a painful and traumatic experience._ Growing larger with his child. _…a learning experience._ Kara wondered if she'd felt it when Boomer'd died, if _she'd_ ever died and been reborn in a new body.

There was a stutter as the tape looped, began to replay the battle, and Kara opened her eyes again, tried to focus on why she was supposedly here. She took another swig, noted the level of liquid in the bottle hovered at just over half.

_You're fine with the dead guys. It's the living guys you can't deal with._ Lee's words had hurt, but what had come after had hurt more. She'd told him that she'd just wanted a good lay, and while that had been true, it hadn't been the whole story. She'd wanted _him_. She'd wanted Lee Adama and at the same time she'd wanted a man that she couldn't have, a man that she'd left behind. A treacherous voice in her head – her own – whispered, _You left Sam to die…_

She gritted her teeth to hold back the scream of rage and frustration that wanted to tear from her throat. Her eyes drifted shut again, blocked out the details of Scar and the dead nugget, left only the flickering light to seep through her lids.

"I thought I'd find you here." Karl's voice didn't surprise her, nor did the warm hand that came down on her left shoulder and squeezed. "You okay?"

She snorted, the sound harsh and coarse and perfect for the setting. "I'm just peachy, Karl."

His fingers didn't leave her arm as he moved in front of her, blocking the view of the training film that she wasn't really watching, anyway. He crouched down in front of her, fingers trailing from shoulder to wrist, and she couldn't stand the look of concern in his eyes, wanted to strike it from his face, but she'd already struck one friend that night. She wouldn't do it to yet another.

Karl's lips twisted into a smirk and one brow lifted and she knew that he'd recognized the brief impulse to hit him.

Something in her that had been pulled too taut for too long snapped when he took the bottle from her hand and drank deeply before handing it back. Kara watched him as he drank, watched the muscles in his throat and jaw work as he swallowed. She drew a breath deep into her lungs and held it, held in the scent of him and of the cheap ambrosia, remembered the salty taste of Karl's skin, so long ago and yet like yesterday.

She closed her eyes and wished away the sudden desire to take _him_ to bed, too. "Dammit." What the frak was wrong with her? She couldn't have Sam. Lee wanted too much, wanted more than she could give. And now Karl? A man who wanted a woman who – aside from not being Kara at all – wasn't real?

The sudden chill where his warm hand had been and the whisper of cloth as he moved made her open her eyes again. He dropped into the seat beside her and draped an arm behind her neck, pulled her head down onto his shoulder. She let him.

"You're not responsible for everyone, y'know." He brushed his lips against her hair, lightly kissing the top of her head, completely unaware of the way her body reacted to the touch. Karl reached for the bottle again. "You didn't kill that nugget and Anders can take care of himself." He took another long drink.

Freed from its burden, she laid her hand flat on his chest, felt the lump of his dog tags beneath the tanks. "What makes you so sure that's what I was thinking?" She shifted to a more comfortable position, his arm still around her.

His head resting on hers, she felt it when he smiled, felt his breath stir the stray strands of her hair, escaped from their tail. "Drinking alone in the dark? No one for company except Scar and the tape of BB's last few minutes? Am I stupid?"

"Well…" She smiled against his chest.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through her, and tightened his arm, hugged her closer for a second or two before relaxing again. "That's better."

The tape began yet another loop and the two of them watched it in silence. Kara felt almost at peace with Karl there, even though nothing else had changed.

After a time, his voice broke the silence. "He likes to use that sun for cover, doesn't he?"

Kara sat up. "What did you say?"

He gestured with the bottle, which was nearly empty, and Kara took it from him as he repeated, "Scar. He likes to use this system's sun as cover. He knows it dazzles our eyes…"

"…and we can't recover from it quickly enough." She leaned forward, elbows on knees, and watched the flickering screen more intently. "You're right." She turned to him, grinning. "How can you be a moron and a frakkin' genius at the same time?" Kara upended the bottle, finishing off the liquor, her eyes never leaving Karl's face.

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Just lucky, I guess." He smiled, but it faded when he realized she was focused on his tongue and mouth. His eyes lifted to hers, saw the hunger there. "Kara…"

He didn't try to avoid her as she leaned into him. "Shut up, Karl. You talk too much." He held his breath; he didn't push her away, but neither did he let her in when she kissed him.

When he didn't respond, she backed off, just enough to search his face. His expression was unreadable and that surprised her – Karl had never hidden his feelings or his moods from her. Before she could say anything, he spoke, his voice low. "I'm not Sam…" She blinked once and opened her mouth to reply – "… and I'm not Lee." – closed it abruptly.

It always surprised her when he did that, picked up on something that she hadn't known she was broadcasting, but that was probably why he was such a good ECO. Torn between getting mad and getting laid, Kara narrowed her eyes, glared at him for half a second. It occurred to her that if he didn't want her on some level, he wouldn't have reminded her of who he wasn't.

His heart beat strongly beneath the palm of her hand, faster than it had only a short time ago, and he watched her, waiting. Kara leaned into him again, whispered against his lips, "And I'm not Sharon." If they were going to do this, then they were damned well going to do it without false pretenses. "Now shut up and frak me, Karl."

Then she kissed him again, hard and demanding. At first, he did nothing, but then his fingers closed around her biceps, digging into her muscles almost to the point of pain as he opened his mouth under hers. "Yes, sir," he breathed, his tongue meeting hers, sending a spike of heat through her.

Karl pulled her toward him, slid down in the seat just a little and she straddled him, her mouth never leaving his, his tongue never leaving her mouth. He tasted of ambrosia and desire and she didn't care why he was giving in to her, it only mattered that he was.

Their fingers tangled for a moment when they met in between as he reached for her belt and she for his. In her haste, she couldn't get his buckle undone and he pushed her hands away, took over, and instead she gripped the waistband of his trousers, tugging at the fabric until he had belt and zipper unfastened. Kara broke their kiss for only the time it took to pull off his trousers and underwear and then to push her own over her hips. His eyes glittered in the blue light from the projector, wide and dark with arousal. With one sharp motion, Kara pulled off her tanks and bra, stood naked between his knees, looking down at him.

"Kara…" His voice was strained. She gave him a wicked smile and stepped into him, lowered herself onto him, lowered her mouth to his as he rose to meet her, slid into her as if he belonged. He bucked once, shifted, thrust deep, fingers digging into her hips.

It was fast and it was rough, but rather than fighting her for control, Karl took what she gave, took what he wanted and gave her what she wanted, needed, in return. There was an edge that was new, but there was a trust and an understanding between them that existed nowhere else and when he came and she followed, the only name on her lips was his.

***

Kara woke alone in her rack. She sat up straight, the movement too fast for the amount of alcohol she'd had the night before and she raised her hands to hold her brain in its place. Her teeth were as fuzzy as her vision as she looked around the room, saw her trousers and tanks folded neatly at the bottom of the mattress and knew that her boots were tucked just as neatly under the frame.

She never folded her things, usually left boots and clothes in an unruly pile when she climbed beneath the covers. She laid back, a smile playing on her lips as she wished for a cigar and thanked the gods for bringing Karl back to her.


End file.
